Las Palabras De Amour
by ajc021
Summary: Just when John thought he was over the army, he's called back, and Sherlock and John don't know exactly what it means for them. There's been a shift in their friendship, and this situation and what it means brings to light the questions unanswered. Four weeks doesn't seem like a long time, but to the two occupants of 221B Baker Street, it feels like a life time.


**Hello all! This is my first ever fanfiction, and I love me some good old Johnlock. I would like to firstly apologise for any mistakes as they are all my own, and any language differences as I'm an Aussie. I'd also like to apologise to Moftiss for the butchering of their characters and sadly I dont own anything, or else Johnlock would have happened a long time ago. Without further ado, on with the story! I hope you all enjoy it.**

John sat at the kitchen bench, staring disbelievingly at the small, white envelope decorated with the RAMC symbol. "No, no this can't be happening." John shook his head dismissively as he shakily opened the envelope, scanning the letter quickly, only catching snippets. The only sentence he found important however, was the one he feared most. The army needed him again. He had to go back to Afghanistan. His eyes began to blur as angry tears began falling down his cheeks. It was this moment that Sherlock waltzed into the room, his blue dressing gown following behind him elegantly. "John we have a case! Lestrade needs u-". He froze as he took in the army doctor's body language; shoulders hunched and his head cradled in his hands. Sherlock knew this only meant one thing: John was in distress. Without a second thought, Sherlock made his way to John's side and knew that something was horribly wrong. His eyes then caught sight of the letter in John's clenched fists and his eyes widened in fear. Sherlock hesitantly reached his hand out to place it gently on John's shoulder and John turned to face Sherlock with his eyes shining with tears. Sherlock didn't even wait for John to speak, he pulled him into an embrace, rubbing his hand up and down John's back. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, relaxing into the embrace.

Sherlock released John to bring them face to face and found the one thing he never thought he'd see on his bloggers' face: utter fear. "I'm so sorry John." Sherlock said quietly, breaking the silence between them. John just stared into Sherlock's eyes, but his mind was elsewhere. Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his own throat, "You can't go back John. You can't." he choked, cursing his emotions for betraying him. He had to stay strong for John, but at this stage, neither of them were going to be able to stay strong. John blinked his eyes, focusing them on Sherlock's grey ones. "I have to, Sherlock. There's nothing we can do." John answered quietly. Sherlock growled in frustration, "Mycroft must be able to do something! Anything! I can't lose you! You can't leave me. I won't survive without you John, we both know that!" He yelled in defeat. John sighed and gripped Sherlock's wrist, shaking his head sadly. Sherlock squeezed John's wrist and felt the tears he tried so hard to conceal slide down his face. John's return to the army was inevitable, and both Sherlock and John knew that.

221B Baker Street was quiet for the remainder of the afternoon, both occupants' minds racing with the revelation of what was to come. John was due to leave in only three days, and Sherlock was trying to convince Mycroft of finding some way to keep John here, where he belonged, with Sherlock. Sherlock knew he was being selfish, but John couldn't leave, for both his and Sherlock's safety. The thought of John leaving made Sherlock's heart ache, and the thought of never seeing him again tore him inside. He loved John, and he had loved him for a long time. Sherlock knew John loved him too, and these circumstances surrounding them at this given time was bringing these feelings to light after so long. Sherlock didn't know how long he'd last while John was gone, but he would try to for John, and only for him. His phone pinged and he yelled loudly, throwing it at the wall with all his strength. John turned to look at Sherlock sadly, his eyes stormy with emotion. Sherlock met John's eyes with his own and he sprung to his feet, his hands clinging to his ebony curls tightly. "There has to be something I can do, ANYTHING!" Sherlock roared, kicking his chair. John rose from his own chair, grabbing Sherlock's hands. "Look at me Sherlock" he said quietly. Sherlock avoided his eyes stubbornly, until John reached up and tilted Sherlock's head so their eyes met. "You can't do anything." John said firmly. Sherlock opened his mouth to argue, but John placed a finger to his lips, "But you can help me. We can survive this, the both of us. I just need you to believe in me and believe in yourself." Sherlock nodded slowly, moving his hand to squeezes John's. John smiled a sad smile, his eyes of a military man, a man who had accepted his fate.

John slipped out of the cab, Sherlock following after him, carrying John's suitcase. Sherlock paid for the cab and followed John into the airport. They moved together slowly, savouring their time together before they are torn apart for the long month awaiting them. They reached the gate for John's flight and they both turn to face each other. Before John could even speak, Sherlock had his arms wrapped around him tightly, cuddling him to his chest. John could feel the tears fall before he could stop them and he returned the embrace tightly. They both broke apart, John smiled a watery smile and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "Stay out of trouble, don't harass Lestrade too much and don't go running off without backup you git" John choked out. Sherlock nodded and returned the watery smile with his own. "I'll miss you John. Please come back to me." Sherlock rumbled softly. "I promise Sherlock, whatever it takes." John whispered. Sherlock took a deep breath before kissing John chastely, squeezing his hand. "Go before you miss your plane." Sherlock whispered back. John returned the kiss and swallowed around the lump in his throat, walking through the gate without a second glance back before feeling the tears begin to fall at a more rapid pace. Sherlock left the airport quickly, feeling his own tears stream down his face. He called a cab and choked out "221B Baker Street" as the cab zoomed away from the airport, and from his John.

The first week was torture. Sherlock would find himself calling for John to "pass him his phone" or "make him tea" and realise too late that John was in fact not there. He'd then proceed to sit there for a long while, cursing himself for slipping up and this would cause him to miss John even more. Sherlock's anti- social behaviour grew worse with the absence of John, and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade were growing worried. Mrs Hudson would shuffle into the room to find Sherlock in a ball of dressing gown and curls, staring at John's chair silently. She shook her head sadly and placed the tea on the coffee table, although she knew the effort was in vain. Lestrade would send countless texts and would call Sherlock multiple times to receive no answer, no matter how high rated or interesting the case was. The only cases Sherlock was taking were Mycroft's, due to a promise that if Sherlock took Mycroft's cases, Mycroft would make sure John was safe. It was the most basic form of manipulation, but Sherlock would do anything to make sure John returned to his side once more.

The second week was no easier than the first. Sherlock, although he knew that they weren't John's footsteps in his mind, brightened when he heard a pair of feet stomping their way up the stairs to the flat. Sherlock raced to the door, flung the door open, and punched the wall in anger when it revealed only Lestrade and not John. Lestrade jumped back in surprise at the rare show of anger and raised his eyebrows, "Sherlock, are you alright? Mycroft told me about John." Sherlock growled in annoyance, "Of course I'm alright. My blogger and best friend has gone back to war after only just recovering from the damage it took on him the first time. I'm bloody ecstatic!" he snapped sarcastically, flopping on to the couch, massaging his temples. Lestrade cleared his throat and stepped towards Sherlock, "Listen mate, I'm sorry. I thought that maybe you could help with a case. I thought I'd come and ask personally since you didn't seem to know how to use your phone. It's nothing too intense but I just thought I'd come and ask if you could help, you know, to get out for a bit" Lestrade finished lamely. Sherlock met Lestrade's gaze and nodded. "Well since your police force are so incompetent, I won't refuse." Sherlock rose from his position on the couch and pulled on his Belstaff and trademark blue scarf. "Well, don't wait for a formal invitation. Let's go then." Sherlock snapped, making his way down the stairs.

The case turned out to be a lot more "intense" than first let on,(at least an 8) and took not only all of week two, but went into the majority of week three also. Before Sherlock knew it, the case was over, his case high finished, and he was back to sulking and moping around the flat, wishing the week was over. Six days, six days until John was home. Mycroft had promised John would be safe, but he still wouldn't tell Sherlock anything about John, much to Sherlock's anger. Sherlock continued to solve the cases Mycroft gave him, until finally, Mycroft texted him the first and only update he received. John was alive, well and ok. The relief that washed over Sherlock made his legs shake. Sherlock smiled a bright smile and thanked his brother before sitting down in his signature "mind palace" pose and bought all the memories of his John to light.

John would never feel as relieved as he did now. His mission ended 2 days earlier than expected and he was on his way home, finally. He sat in the private jet (he reminded himself to thank Mycroft later) and pulled out his phone. He smiled as the countless messages from Sherlock began popping up, laughing as Sherlock's eccentricities shone through in each text. The first thing he needed to do, which he should have done before he left, was tell Sherlock how much he truly loved him. He did not stop thinking about the kiss at the airport, and to be honest, he wished it happened a lot bloody sooner. It seemed that both Sherlock and John were too scared to ruin what they obviously had, and couldn't take the next step. John grinned as his phone pinged, signalling a text. Mycroft had been told by Greg that Sherlock was at a crime scene and had no idea that John was coming home so early. John sent a text back in thanks, and as the plane finally touched ground back in England, John stepped out and breathed in the crisp spring air of London and smiled brightly. He was home.

"How bloody stupid are you all?! How the hell are you all qualified detectives when you can barely see what is right in front of you?" Sherlock growled. He'd had enough, he wanted to go home. He wanted John home. The last few days had been the worst, and knowing John wasn't going to be home for another two made it even more unbearable. Lestrade insisted he needed his help, and had said the case would be worth it. It turned out to be a pathetic 3, and his already thin patience was running out as he yet again pointed out the obvious to the "detectives" of Scotland Yard. "It was the maid, her fingerprints are all over the bloody scene! A monkey could have solved this case faster than the lot of you! Don't bother me with any more cases." He was in the process of a dramatic exit when he caught sight of the familiar short dirty blond hair and army fatigues he could never forget. Lestrade followed his line of sight and smirked when he saw John step out of the cab and make his way over. Sherlock froze in astonishment, unable to comprehend that his John was making his way over to him. John caught sight of him and sprinted towards Sherlock, crushing him in a bone crunching hug. Sherlock felt the tears stinging his eyes and all he could do was choke out "John" before his arms were filled with said man. Sherlock pulled John close to his chest and he hugged him tightly. He felt the wet patch on his shoulder where John's face was perched and both men were shaking with the force of their sobs. Sherlock couldn't speak any other word but "John" in a whisper, and John just pulled him close and didn't say anything.

The Yarders froze in shock when they saw this display of emotion and intimacy from the usually sociopathic detective, but a sharp look from Lestrade made them continue their work. Sherlock broke the hug first, his eyes filled with tears but his mouth was stretched out into the genuine grin he saved for John. John returned the grin, his eyes also watery. Without hesitation, John cupped Sherlock's face and kissed him tenderly. Sherlock returned the kiss, running his fingers through John's military buzz cut, his arms around John's neck. John's arms then moved to encircle Sherlock's waist and they kissed with all the longing and loneliness they both had felt over the month long exile. They broke apart slowly, John's hands still holding Sherlock close by the waist, while Sherlock's hands had moved to cup John's face, his thumb brushing John's cheekbone. "You're home early." Sherlock choked out, his thumb never stopping its tender caress of John's cheek. John grinned and nodded, "It was a surprise. My mission finished earlier than expected." Sherlock returned the smile, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. John took a deep steadying breath and spoke firmly, "There's something I have to tell you, and I should have told you ages ago but I was just so scared I'd lose you and I care about you too much to lose y-" Sherlock placed a finger on John's mouth, "You're rambling, John." He said softly, the smile clear in his voice. John rolled his eyes but blushed, "What I'm trying to say is, I love you, you daft git, and I should have told you a long time ago." Sherlock grinned and pulled John closer, "I love you too, you prat." They both shared a soft smile and chuckled. "I don't know what I think of your haircut though, that better grow back soon." Sherlock grinned, "Oh shut it and kiss me you wanker." John laughed and brought their lips together once more. Lestrade grinned at the two men, and whispered to himself, "About bloody time."

**Thank you so much to everyone who reached this point! The title of this fic is taken from my favourite band Queen's song! Thanks again everyone for reading this fic. Please favourite, follow and review! Constructive criticism is a godsend! :) **


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